The One You're With
by closetfangirl77
Summary: "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with." (My attempt to segue the death of the Bass/Charlie 'ship and resolve their unfinished business before the writers launch them with their new (assumed) partners.


Charlie paused in the motion of flicking damp hair off her face as Bass ambled over to her, bottle in hand. It was the first time he'd sought her out since New Vegas…since Connor. Affecting casual indifference, she arched a brow. "Drunk again, Monroe?"

He snorted. "Quit busting my balls, Charlotte. You got a minute?"

With some surprise, and a measure of curiosity, she shrugged and followed him to a log near the creek, where she'd recently managed a half-ass bath. "What do you need?" She had the craziest urge to suggest something provocative, but bit back the words. That didn't keep her from hoping his reply would be, "_You_."

"Advice." He shot a glance to where the rest of their party had set up camp. Gene and Rachel were busy with the contents of the wagon, while Miles spoke amicably with Duncan. Their numbers had swelled with the addition of Duncan's men, but that group was a bit farther down from them. Except Duncan. She'd set up her bedroll near the fire Charlie had built, and it had taken all her self-control not to tell the woman to move the hell back to her own campfire. It was irritating to know she owed the warlord, that Connor and Bass would have been forced to fight to one of their deaths if not for Duncan's assistance. That didn't mean she had to like the woman.

Oddly enough, Charlie had a feeling she would have in other circumstances. She was tough and dedicated to the wellbeing of those following her commands. She personified strength and leadership. Not that bullshit superiority Rachel often displayed, masking as a confident plan. No, Duncan clearly knew what she was doing. Just something about her sat wrong with Charlie. Something about her past…

She cut off that thought, not wanting to explore where it would lead. Instead, she tried to focus on Bass. "You want advice from me?" She feigned shock. "Why not Miles? He's your go-to guy."

Bass rolled his eyes. "This is more of a go-to girl kind of advice, Charlotte. Miles is shit with this kind of thing, as you probably know. It took him twenty-some years to get it right with your mother—who would rather kill me than help me, so asking her isn't an option." He took a long drink of whatever amber liquid filled his bottle. "Not that I blame her. She's due her pound of flesh and then some."

"She already killed you once." Charlie snatched the bottle from him and drained the rest in one long drink.

His harsh laugh shattered the quiet around them. "Give her about fifty more chances, and maybe we'll be even."

She sighed, not wanting to think about the past—between her mom and Bass, between herself and Bass, and especially not his past with Duncan. The past led to morose thoughts and stirred up old anger that she was trying very hard to release. Hating Bass solved nothing. She might as well hate the wind. He wasn't even the man he used to be. Or he didn't seem to be. She trusted him as much as she could ever trust the man who had been General Monroe.

"So, ask Duncan." She hid a grimace at the thought of them having a cozy little chat.

He cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, it's about her, so that won't fly, kid."

"I'm not a kid," she said softly.

He gave her a long, considering look before nodding just once. "No, you definitely aren't."

"What do you want to know?"

Bass cleared his throat again. "I really screwed her over. I seduced her, made her some promises I didn't plan to keep, and used her to negotiate a delicate dispute with the Plains Nation. She ended up their prisoner for a time, before her people rescued her."

Charlie frowned, not liking the picture he painted. "So, you were a prick like always?"

He nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."

"What's that have to do with now?"

He stared at his scuffed boot. "How do I make it up to her? It seems like she might be receptive to another go, you know. She's a good woman, and I could do worse." His lips twisted. "I have done worse, on multiple occasions."

Anger bubbled up in her chest. "Let me get this straight. You're asking me for advice on how to win back your old lover?"

He nodded, looking confused. "I know you're young, but you're smart. You know how to read people. How do I approach her?"

She almost stamped her foot like a child. "Unbelievable. How incredibly thick do you have to be, Bass?" He seemed surprised by the use of his nickname, but she pressed on. "You seriously want _me_ to help you hook up with _her_?"

He scowled. "Is that a problem?"

"Damned right it's a problem." Charlie shoved against his chest, sending him sprawling on his ass, and got up from the log to march away from the impromptu camp in a huff. She stopped just a short way out of sight, even in her rage conscious of the need for safety with the Patriot presence nearby. She took several deep breaths, trying to regain a sense of calm.

It bothered her that she was so angry about his question. How had he had the gall to ask her? Didn't the man have any eyes? For someone who was so charming and charismatic, he must be terrible at reading women. What the fuck was wrong with him? Did he really have no clue how she felt?

"What was that all about?" he demanded, coming up behind her and turning her to face him. He rubbed the spot on his chest melodramatically. "Why are you so pissed off?"

"Why do you want to get back with Duncan?" She tried to shield what she was feeling, but had a feeling her vulnerability showed plain as day in her eyes when his expression softened slightly.

"She's my age. We have history. Women aren't exactly common in our current lifestyle, Charlie, especially ones that are a suitable match."

She rolled her eyes. "What are you, some Jane Austen hero?" At his surprised look, she grimaced. "Aaron made us read a bunch of old crap no one cared about, just like no one cares about suitable matches."

He took just a tiny step closer, but she could feel his body heat radiating toward her and wanted to curl against him.

"Who else is there for me, Charlie? Your mom is with Miles, plus I'm pretty sure she'd cut off my balls with a dull spoon if I got close enough." He sighed. "It's Duncan or no one. I'm tired of no one, you know? We'll probably all be dead within a few months, so we should take what we can when we can."

His words eerily echoed the same sentiments she had expressed to Connor. "What about me?" she asked, hardly daring to voice the question. She could respond with lightning-fast reflexes in battle and master her fear during physical altercations, so why was it so damned hard to ask one small question?

Sadness flooded his blue eyes. "Oh, Charlotte, you're with Connor."

She shook her head. "I'm not."

He looked skeptical. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you are. I saw you."

"You saw what I wanted you to see." She swallowed the lump in her throat to step closer, putting her hand on his chest in the same spot where she had shoved him. "I wanted you, Bass, but I thought Connor would be a simpler solution. I thought I could accept a weaker version of what I really craved." She shook her head. "It wasn't what I wanted, and as I was fucking your son, all I could think about was you." Charlie dipped her head, letting her damp waves obscure her expression. "I didn't hide what we'd done because I wanted to hurt you."

He drew in a deep breath. "You succeeded, but why?" He gave a hard laugh. "No, never mind. I know why. I deserve all the pain you want to send my way."

"I wanted to hurt you to see if I could." She lifted her head, summoning her courage. "I needed to know if you felt anything for me."

He put a hand on her cheek. "You could have just asked. Sometimes, you're like a wise old monk, or one of those kung fu masters. So full of wisdom and calm, with determination and an unshakable sense of rightness guiding you." Bass shook his head. "Other times, you're a child, Charlie."

She winced, wanting to retaliate, but holding back. He was right. She had handled the situation like a bratty teenager, not an adult woman. Who slept with someone's son to get their attention? It was fucking stupid, and she'd ruined everything, if there had been anything to ruin. All the pain in their past still separated them, even if she hadn't had sex with Connor.

As much as she wanted him, her guilt in the desire was equal in its intensity. Each time her body sang at his proximity, Danny or her dad's face rose in her mind, reminding her the part he had played in their deaths. Then again, her dad and mother had killed millions with their little nanites, starting this whole mess.

But Danny hadn't done anything. He'd been innocent. Her responsibility, and her only real family after losing Ben and Maggie. Rachel had walked away long ago, and of her own choice. (She'd heard Miles and Rachel discussing it one night when they thought she was asleep.) Miles had seemed to care for a while, and he probably still did, but it was clear Rachel was his priority.

Other than Nora, Danny had been the last thing that truly mattered to her, and she'd lost him to Bass's men. She hadn't fought hard enough to dissuade him, and he'd been caught up in the madness. The man before her, the one her body yearned for, had been instrumental in her brother's death, even if he hadn't actually pulled the trigger.

"I feel something for you, Charlotte. All kinds of things I shouldn't. I have from the first moment I saw you practically daring Strausser to shoot you." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I can't lose my son after just finding him, and he really likes you. I can tell. Miles would kick my ass, and Rachel would be searching for that spoon. You know it would never work."

She nodded. "I know. That's why Connor seemed like a logical choice."

Looking sad, he nodded. "He is. He'll be good for you."

She sniffed, appalled by the urge to cry. "And Duncan. She still cares for you. I can tell. Be honest with her. Don't bullshit her with your faux charm."

He nodded. "I'll do my best." As she drew away, he caught hold of her hand, putting his fingers under her chin so she looked up at him. "There's an old saying."

"As old as you?" she asked with a feeble attempt at humor.

He grinned. "Nothing's that old, kid." Bass brought his head down, his lips hovering near hers. "'If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with.'" His mouth claimed hers in a deep, but all-too-brief kiss. It was torture, hinting at the things that could have been, but now would never be. When he stepped back, he stared at her for a half-second longer before turning and walking away without another word.

What else was there left to say? There had been too many obstacles, but she'd struck the death knell. She'd made their beds, and now they had to lie in them, beside other people. So, she'd be with Connor and pretend it was enough. Maybe, someday, it would be.


End file.
